


New York Is Cold But

by fitofpique



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-19
Updated: 2004-10-19
Packaged: 2017-11-04 01:44:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fitofpique/pseuds/fitofpique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dom shivers. “Not fit for man nor beast to be roaming about on a night like this, is it?” he replies in a whisper as Billy’s hand insinuates itself under his suit coat. </p><p>"What about manly beasts?" Billy asks, fingers tripping over the buckle of Dom's belt and the front of his trousers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New York Is Cold But

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Leonard Cohen's _Famous Blue Raincoat._

That night, Billy and Dom wait impatiently on the corner in the drifting snow, stamping their feet and rubbing one another’s arms through their coats, their breath mingling in the frigid air between them. They shake snow from their hair and laugh together through chattering teeth. 

The streets are treacherous and the taxi driver is grim as he navigates the heavy traffic and slick pavement. The back seat is a respite and a refuge, its heated darkness weighing on them like a blanket. They press together, thighs kissing through layers of clothes, heads touching, shoulders bumping. 

Billy takes off a glove and slides his hand into the humid warmth of Dom’s woolen coat. “Dirty weather,” he whispers hotly into the shell of Dom’s ear. 

Dom shivers. “Not fit for man nor beast to be roaming about on a night like this, is it?” he replies in a whisper as Billy’s hand insinuates itself under his suit coat. 

"What about manly beasts?" Billy asks, fingers tripping over the buckle of Dom's belt and the front of his trousers.

Dom laughs quietly and leans in closer.

“We won't be out for long, all being well,” Billy says, as he leans in and closes his teeth over Dom's earlobe and bites down gently. 

“Billy,” Dom breathes and lets his head slump onto the tasseled end of Billy’s soft grey scarf and the shoulder beneath. 

The lights in the hotel lobby are blinding after the dim of the taxi, and Billy and Dom hurry through, squinting and pulling their coats tight around them, looking up only to nod at the concierge as they pass. Their shoes tap tap tap on the gleaming floor tiles. Dom’s paisley silk scarf trails behind like a flag in the wind.

When the lift doors slide shut behind them, Billy slumps against Dom's side. He turns and buries his nose in Dom's neck and sighs deeply. Dom rubs his back. “Not long now, love. Nearly home.”

The door to the suite swings shut and locks with a snick, closing the world out. 

The room is silent but for the whisper of snowflakes against the windowpane as they undress one another, heaping scarves and gloves and coats and suit jackets and belts and shoes on the floor with no ceremony. Dom captures Billy’s mouth in a kiss, hotslick slide of lips and tongue, hint of teeth, and presses him back against the door. Billy warms quickly as Dom glides his hands from hips to ribs to shoulders, tugging at the buttons of Billy’s shirt, impatient, before settling on the knot in his tie and working it loose, pulling it free. 

Billy's already discarded Dom’s tie and waistcoat and made quick work of the buttons on his shirt. His fingers slip under the waistband of Dom's trousers and Dom gasps, his own fingers stilling instantly. His eyes flutter shut and he leans his forehead against Billy's. 

“Give me your hands,” Dom demands after a moment.

“Why?” Billy asks, but he removes them from Dom's waist and holds them out, palms facing up. 

“Too distracting,” Dom mutters as he grasps first one of Billy’s wrists and then the other and moves them behind Billy’s back. He uses the tie he’s still holding, wrapping it around and around, snug but not too snug, and then tying it off with a knot. 

He looks up, finding Billy’s eyes as he lowers himself to his knees. “All right?” he asks.

“Yes,” Billy hisses as Dom starts working his trousers and pants over his hips. Dom's mouth is open, his eyes narrowed in concentration. An expression Billy knows and loves. 

Billy's head falls back against the door as Dom’s lips close around his cock. He shudders, trying to hold still under Dom's ministrations, but he can't stop his hips from twitching under Dom’s palms. He strains at the silk binding his wrists. He wants to touch Dom's face, his hair, but he can only make thankful, encouraging sounds and try not to thrust too hard.

Dom slides his mouth down down down, as far as it can go and further, and then swoops back up to suck rhythmically, ruthlessly at the head of Billy's cock, again and again and again, until Billy is moaning and squirming, head thrashing back and forth, knees buckling, upright only because Dom’s got him pinned against the door with sure hands and overheated mouth. His body curves over Dom's like a question mark, but there's no question in his mind, not now.

He chants Dom's name as he strains against the tie binding his wrists. At last the knot gives and his hands are free, blessedly free, and he slides his fingers eagerly through Dom’s hair, across his brow, his eyelids, his cheekbones and finally rests them lightly on Dom's lips where they meet his cock, which sends a rush of heat blazing through his body. 

“Dom,” he pleads. Dom moans around his cock, a deep, open-throated sound, and looks up at him, his eyes burning. 

Billy melts like snow.


End file.
